


Upon Midsummer

by NightReaderEnigma



Series: Jaime and Brienne Week 2019 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Happy Ending, Jaime/Brienne Appreciation Week, Midsummer, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 07:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/pseuds/NightReaderEnigma
Summary: This stand alone piece is written for the Prompt 'Summer Solstice'It is longer than all my other tales so deserved its own breathing space.The Maid of Tarth attends the first Westerosi Midsummer's Eve Celebrations. . .





	Upon Midsummer

The humidity of the night air prickled against her skin and she tried not to feel self-conscious in the plainly cut dress.  
The thin fabric clinging to her chest in ways she truly wished it wouldn’t. Her long arms exposed and made to appear even lengthier by the absence of sleeves.  
_Why did I agree to come?_

The Midsummer’s festival was being thrown out in the open, under the canopy of stars. An initiative of the new Dragon Queen who had adopted many strange customs from the Essosi culture. The sun had not long set and now the shortest night of the year began. It was a welcome opposite to the long night they had suffered through in recent memory. 

Brienne wove her way amongst the guests, noting how many did a double take as they tried to place her.  
_These people have not seen me out of mail, chances are they don’t recognise the sow of Tarth when I am garbed in silk instead of a man’s attire._ She did not delude herself into imagining anyone considered her appearance remotely attractive.__

_ _ The perimeter of the gala was outlined by fiery torches which only served to increase the heat. She checked herself for decency sake for the thousandth time and fidgeted with the neckline of her dress. Forcing herself to place one foot in front of the other and continue to mingle with the crowd, successfully portraying a façade of false ease._ _

____ Folks from all corners of the continent chatted amiably, the wars and conflicts which divided them placed aside. Committed to the pages of history and left there to fade.  
_I am glad things settled so easily for Westeros. It would have been a shame to see more bloodshed._  
After the battle of the Living and the Dead, the forces of men were so depleted the petty rivalries of Lords seemed trivial and a sinful waste of human life.  
Treaties were hastily drafted and signed and the peace agreements slowly melded the borders which had previously been drawn in battle lines.  
Of course there were still those who clung to their old power, Queen Regent Cersei Lannister had been one of the last to relent. But when the Targaryen Queen soared in upon her trio of Dragons even the mighty lioness had traces of fear in her eyes. She had shielded her youngest son and bent the knee to ensure he lived to see another day. A Mother’s sacrifice for her child, of which youthful Tommen seemed oblivious and not in the least disconcerted for having lost his crown.

____ Brienne herself had cut her teeth in the war against the Wight Walkers, earning glory and esteem as a fierce warrior and protector of the innocent. Sansa Stark credited the Maid of Tarth with saving her life and word of her heroics quickly spread. Though if she were honest - if Jaime had not been by her side, she was not certain how she would have fared.  
The mighty Lion of Lannister had honoured every oath he swore, standing staunchly with her and helping to ensure their vows to the late Lady Catelyn had been fulfilled.  
When it came to brokering his pardon for the murder of the Mad King, his good deeds had spoken to his true character and slowly the term ‘Kingslayer’ was being forgotten.  
It brought a smile to Brienne’s face whenever anyone addressed him as ‘Ser Jaime’ after years of him suffering through disdain and contempt.  
It was passing odd – for she saw the same reaction reflected upon his face when people congratulated her or hailed her as the ‘Warrior Maiden’.

_ _ A sweet melody drifted on the night air as couples danced gaily in flounces of swirling colour. She stood watching their gracefulness and wondered what it must be like to be one of the dainty creatures, held lovingly in the arms of their beau. Brienne knew she could not even claim to be so dedicated that she had willingly traded the attentions afforded to a lady for her sword and the life of a knight. Her homely features had made that decision for her at her moment of birth, only to be compounded by her ungainly build and the multitude of scars she had acquired along her quests.  
Renly had danced with her once but maturity had changed the hue of the memory. She could no longer romanticise the kindly gesture which she now recognised as pity._ _

____ Tearing her gaze away, she meandered through the crowd in search of refreshment. Her mouth was dry from nerves and the thick heat of the atmosphere.  
Making her way to a beverage table she studied the options with her usual reserve. Imbibing in alcohol would be unwise for an unchaperoned maiden, even one as hideous as her. Requesting cider from the serving girl, her arm was stilled by a gentle touch as she reached to take the cup.  
“You aren’t seriously drinking that? Why don’t you just request water? They are equally dull.”  
Jaime leant casually against the table, wearing his cavalier smirk. The lightweight material of his shirt hanging from his muscular shoulders and outlining his godlike frame.  
“I should have known Ser, if I needs must locate a Lannister I need only to look behind a carafe of Dornish Red.”  
“Hear, hear! And rightfully so. It is not only reminiscent of my House colours but I also have taste.” 

____ His eyes trailed slowly down her figure and Brienne suddenly remembered her attire. The lion’s mouth parted as though there was a thought he wished to express but the phrase never found its way past his tongue. He settled for licking his lips instead and something about the gesture made a heat rise from behind her ears.  
Eager to shift the focus, she folded her arms across her chest and raised her cup slightly in toast. “To the peace Ser. May the children of Summer never know the horrors which we saw.”  
“That I will drink to. Though I can think of much more enticing resolutions we could be toasting.”  
“Such as?”  
This time he raised his goblet, clinking it against her own. “To stepping outside ourselves and shedding our insecurities and our spectres. Starting now.”  
He took her cup from her hand as she was sipping out of it. “Hey! I was drinking that.”  
Jaime laced his fingers through her own and began to pull her away from the table.  
“What are you doing?”  
“You’re going to dance with me.”  
“No, I’m not! I cannot dance and you know it….”  
“Yes - and I have but one hand, which makes the entire exercise rather awkward. But we both just avowed to not let our perceived handicaps prevent us from living life to its fullest.”  
“Jaime the entire court is here, they will laugh at us.”  
“Fuck their opinions. Half of them are only alive because we fought tooth and nail whilst they sat in their pretty houses and hoped the undead would simply pass them by.”

____ He assumed position on the edge of the allotted dancefloor, right arm bent ready to wrap around her waist and his one good hand held aloft for her to take.  
“My Lady….” He beckoned and she smiled at his bravado despite her churning stomach.  
“Jaime...” She scuffed at the dirt with her boot, the one item she was wearing she actually felt comfortable in. “…. we will be unsightly.”  
“Then we will laugh about it later and blame the drink.” A shadow of doubt crossed his handsome features as he looked down at his maimed wrist. “Does my stump offend? It was too hot to wear my prosthetic and Cersei hounded me about it endlessly before I came, she said I looked the cripple. I can understand if you find it repulsive.”  
“Not in the least.” His own diffidence propelled her forward and she stepped into his waiting arms.  
His forearm tight against her waist, her dress allowing her to feel his muscles ripple in ways she could never have detected through armour.  
Fitting her hand into his, she felt giddy and her head swam as she looked down into his eyes.  
Her height a spectacle in itself as she was the only woman who towered over her partner. 

_ _ Undeterred, Jaime lead them into the fray, trying to find a rhythm between them as they moved.  
Ever gallant and raised to be the splendid Lord and gentleman, he guffawed endearingly, showing his dazzling rows of pearly white teeth when she trod inelegantly upon his foot more than once. _ _

____ “I’m sorry.” She whispered mortified. “I have no poise.”  
“I disagree.” His lips were so close they tickled the spot in front of her ear. It resonated in places far lower in her body, sites she did not recognise that only his proximity awakened.  
“My Septa said…”  
“Forget everything that old cunt told you. Just pretend we are playing at swords. When I move you react and vice versa. If we can find perfect unison with blades in hand, a dance should be nothing by comparison.” 

_ _ When they sparred, it was his body she attuned to. Noting every flinch in his muscles, the way he stepped and shied. She knew his tells and giveaways, could predict his next action. Surely she could transfer these skills to their present situation.  
After a beat, they found their symbiosis. A seamless flow overtaking their movements. Her smile brilliant as for the first time she felt genuinely like a lady should._ _

“I would like to shift a little, if we may.” Jaime asked her, swapping his right arm for his left. “But you can tell me if it displeases you.”  
The new position would make her have to hold on to his stump. “I am the farthest thing from displeased.” Brienne’s voice was low, her eyes hooded, betraying feelings she herself tried not to acknowledge. She closed her fingers around the scarred flesh of his wrist, rubbing the lines gently with her thumb.  
Jaime’s left hand now splayed across the small of her back, pulsing heat as he slid it in concentric circles, higher then lower.  
Seeking contact with her curves, keen to establish a claim through his body language. They were not just friends.

____ “What a glorious pair of misfits we are.” The golden lion crooned. “Quite well suited in fact.”  
“Is that what you want to be?” Her tone was afraid, both dreading and longing for the answer. “Well suited?”  
Ever the tease, he couldn’t simply give her a straightforward reply. “You tell me wench.”  
Impossibly he managed to pull her closer, until their forms fit like a hand in a supple leather glove. Moulded against each other as if from clay, designed to interlock.  
His cheek was pure heat against her own, stubble grating against her soft flesh which was innocent of this variety of contact. 

____ Their obvious enrapture was indeed attracting attention.  
From beyond Jaime’s shoulder she witnessed Tyrion raise his goblet in his brother’s direction, followed by a prurient grin.  
As they turned Podrick averted his gaze, manoeuvring his own dance partner in the opposite direction, too bashful to witness his mentor in such an intimate embrace.  
The most prevalent and revelatory reaction however, belonged to her partner’s twin. She glowered from her position on the sidelines, envy and wrath raining down upon Brienne under the former Queen’s withering gaze. It curiously gave the Maid of Tarth confidence. _Cersei is self-assured, she would not react in such a way unless she saw Jaime slipping away from her…._

____ Withdrawing her cheek, Brienne leant her forehead to his, inhaling deep breaths as they swayed and she tried to find her centre, somewhere amidst the wild flutterings of her heart.  
“Are we really doing this My Lord? I know you like to taunt me but to do so in such a way would be immensely cruel. A level of which I do not think you capable.”  
“Brienne…” His lopsided smile liquified her insides. “I have made my intentions towards you quite obvious for a while now. Somehow you are the only one who hasn’t noticed.”  
“I would never be so presumptive….”  
“Come with me.” He breathed. “I would steal you away from prying eyes. Though I cannot vouch for your reputation if you should choose to follow.” 

_ _ He stepped away, disappearing through the cavorting couples and it was without a second thought that she was straight on his heels.  
Darting left and right, terrified of losing sight of him, of her nerve dissipating, of the boom to fall, the laughter to commence, his hazed vision clearing and seeing her for the unappealing beast that she was…._ _

_ _ Around a pavilion, obscured by partial darkness, she looked beyond the sconces hoping to catch a glimpse of him.  
Her chest heaving as she pondered how he could have slipped away. _ _

____ But it was Jaime who found Brienne as strong arms whirled her around and jostled her to the side of the tent, his silhouette striking amidst the shadows thrown by spattered firelight. She gasped and gulped and he caught it with his mouth, gifting her his surety and sharing with her his hunger.  
Oh but she had cravings of her own and she fumbled desperately to bring them to fruition though her inexperience inhibited her progress.  
“Wench…” His voice was husky with desire as she lavished his jaw with kisses. “…. If you thought we fit together when dancing, wait until I show you how else we can entwine.”  
“I will welcome it.” She lifted her leg up around his hip and his eyes sparked at her boldness.  
“They will have to find another name for you.” He nipped her swollen bottom lip. “Warrior Maid will no longer be fitting.”  
“They adapted from calling you Kingslayer and my title hasn’t been around for half as long.” She sensed he enjoyed her matching him, retort for retort and wit for wit, as they so often did in years gone by. “Now stop making excuses.”

_ _ He responded by kissing her passionately, making good use of the accessibility of her neck and shoulders. Turning the dress she despised into her new favourite garment.  
By design of the fates, she had worn it this evening and as Jaime’s hand wandered roguishly over her breasts she adored its flimsiness which allowed her to savour his touch. _ _

“Trust us…” Jaime mused as he lead her off towards the stronghold. To find privacy. A chamber and a feather-down bed to shelter them and their coupling. “….We spend the longest night in history stuck battling horrid undead things. But the shortest night there can be we decide to become lovers.”  
“It is not the length of the night which matters.” She assured him as they walked, leaving all others and their derogatory opinions behind them.  
Cast away to insignificance, along with their vulnerabilities and apprehensions as promised. “As long as it is unforgettable.” 


End file.
